


Far Away Stars 'n Shattered Glass

by Stray_Ashes



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Adventure, Barman!Frank, Bottom!Frank, Captain!Gerard, Earth, Eventual smut i guess, Fanart, Fantasy, Frank has dog ears, Frerard, Furry, Gerard has fox ears, M/M, Magic Powers, Mercury - Freeform, MindReader!Tyler, Space!AU, Stars, Time Travel, Top!Gerard, Translation, alternative universe, broken glass, silver - Freeform, space, universe - Freeform, yeah - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-29
Updated: 2017-07-01
Packaged: 2018-11-06 10:10:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11034048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stray_Ashes/pseuds/Stray_Ashes
Summary: [Space!AU]  [Fantasy]Frank was particularly proud of the bar that his parents had left him as inheritance (the fact that they won it playing cards wasn't important, it was his anyway), and even if Frank wasn't completely human, he was more than happy to manage the bar as a real Earthling would have.But then something changed when Frank found himself staring at a cracked glass; for some reason, he began to think that maybe his life was becoming too monotonous, flat, senseless -  and with a whole Universe to discover, just listen to his clients telling stories was not enough anymore: he wanted to live his own story, this time.And the young barman, indeed, would've soon found himself stuck in a war way biger than him, where Gerard Nox way, captain of a space-ship, was fighting for something more than just his own life.__Frank had always seen the stars as unattainable, distant lights: being nobody's property - or at least, somebody else's property - he would've never thought that one day he woulv have been able to reach and almost touch them. Although he would've never even thought that he would've fallen in love with someone so dangerous the way he did in the end...





	1. Fragile Glass

**Author's Note:**

> >>Chapter translated from Italian by: @poisonmilkshake

 

 

 

 

_Edit: this fanart is MINE so don't steal please! Check my Instagram @stray_ashes if you wanna ask something! ^^_

 

 

**_Chapter 1_ :   "Fragile Glass"**

 

On a shelf - right there next to the liquors and all the other bottles that Frank forgot the name of - were lined in impeccable order seven glasses. The curious thing, was that the sixth glass had a crack on one side, a visibly irritating line that abruptly interrupted the reflections and the elegant transparency of the refined glass that the object was made of.

Most people wouldn't have noticed, or they would have simply taken it, thrown it away and then replaced it; sure, it would have been a pity, by now there were only seven glasses left of that gorgeous set that had travelled such a long way, from the Earth to this actual planet, but that line was a rather evident off-key note in the almost obsessive order with which Frank organized his life and, more specifically, his bar. What did it take to throw away the damaged object and reduce the set to six glasses? Almost nothing, actually, and even if Frank dedicated extreme cure to that so rare set, only using it on certain occasions, he could easily live without one glass - a glass that, moreover, he hadn't used since the day the crack had appeared, almost two months earlier. Basically, Frank used all the glasses he had in his possession and automatically left the one with the line there on the wooden shelf, without ever moving it, and the glass stayed in its place, unseen like a warning of imperfection in Frank Iero's relatively perfect life.

And Frank had never given much weight to this fact, passively blaming his own laziness, but things changed when, one day, with the bar full of people that chatted and muttered loudly, he stopped without a reason to stare at the cracked glass, isolated in the shelf like a tree in the desert.

With a dust cloth still in his hand and a few unfriendly customers behind him, Frank found himself fixated, staring at the cracked glass' reflections, and in that exact moment he realized something: he'd never thrown the glass away because he _liked_ it. And he liked it _more_ than the other glasses precisely because of the crack.

In its imperfection, in its difference and originality, the glass was very beautiful, if not incredibly fascinating. And then Frank started to ask himself if his life was becoming too monotone, flat, senseless; he asked himself if this – to serve, clean, manage the bar – was what he wanted to do for his whole life. He asked himself if he was happy. And Frank's mind stayed elsewhere for several minutes, probably making his customers worry, but it was worth it, because the boy realized that all this order was distressing him, that the walls that he remembered every detail of were becoming tighter each day, and that, just like the glass set, maybe his days needed some imperfect, beautiful cracks.

Frank looked away and blinked, coming back to himself. In the span of a few minutes, his mind was filled again with orders, duties, chatter, accounts and various mundanities.

That same evening, though, when the bar closed and all the people – customers and employees – went back home, Frank took the lined glass, filled it and took a sip of simple water.

***

In the case you, traveler, for some reason decided to follow with your space shuttle the coordinates found on one of those classic fliers or posters, you'd end up in a small planet named Gavihër that seen from far away had a funny green-purple shade - not very tempting if in your life you'd already met a Splokkr with a weak stomach, because the planet's colour was very similar to that of its vomit. That's why Frank had turned up his nose at first, but it's not like he's the one who chose the planet.

Back to us, following those indications you would have ended up in an odd historic district where, years ago, various bars and typical Earth attractions had been put up, sort of like a museum or a memoir for the homeland of the human race, which was several quadrants away from the planet Gavihër.

And really, Frank was particularly proud of the bar that his parents had left him as inheritance (the fact that they won it playing cards wasn't important, it was his anyway), and even if Frank wasn't completely _human_ , he was more than happy to manage the bar as a real Earthling would have.

Since he really cared about it, Frank didn't stay in the back to count money and manage taxes, he'd decided instead to follow the bar shifts himself, serving and mixing drinks with his trusted friend James. His other employees took care of everything else, between kitchen and serving tables, while Frank favored the bar: there was something elegant and artistic about mixing perfect cocktails, and the sense of pride in serving them and chatting with the customer (drunk or otherwise) was almost incomparable, and also a convenient way to get people to tell him gossip and news about the city, or generally the Universe.

That way, Frank had discovered _a lot_ of things.

"Frank! The new ambassador of Kolshiel is here, he wants Porpeea juice. Do we have any?" Rachel popped up from the kitchen screaming, white hat over her bright red hair and an apron with flowers around her waist. Rachel was a Reptilia, a species with perfectly human appearance and an eccentric, fiery personality, but also the best cook that Frank could have found in the whole galaxy. And despite the common opinion, the long reptilian tail didn't get in her way at all.

Frank finished drying the glass tankard and accurately put it down on the rag next to the sink, sighing. "I ordered some yesterday! Right now I don't know, take a better look in the pantry!"

"I already checked!" the cook yelled, retreating in the kitchen to scream more orders to her helpers. Frank smiled and shook his head, turning then to the other side and checking that none of the customers needed to order. Right in that moment leant on the counter a large figure with greyish, wrinkled skin, a creased button-down shirt and a big, droopy nose. Frank widened his smile and turned his ears in a friendly gesture – yes, _ears_ –, instantly recognizing one of his plumpest customers, as well as his personal friend. "Toddher! It's been a while since you came by, what brings you here?" Frank asked politely, grabbing another rag and starting to sweep it on the counter.

"Well! You know how business works, Frank. All the centuries you want could pass by but opening your own enterprise always requires a mountain of paperwork. What a waste, I tell you", the alien muttered, waving a hand and making his big nose move with the movements of his neck. "And the job I still have at the port doesn't help. They have unreasonable shifts. This is the first time I manage to take more than a few hours of break and enjoy a good drink. Speaking of, would you make me a Galaxik Highway?"

"Coming right up," Frank confirmed, winking. He turned around to grab the alcoholics and the flavorings necessary for that cocktail, leafing for a second through the pages in his mind, where he kept memorized all the names and all the doses. He quickly waved towards James, who some meters away was serving other customers, and turned around again to face Toddher. This latter had made himself comfortable on one of the stools and had now his elbows resting on the counter, probably waiting for the young barman to shift all his attention back to him, so that he could start talking and talking. There were customers who were quiet, reserved and even a bit creepy, and then there were the friendly, chatty and energetic ones: Toddher was a part, obviously, of the second category.

But Frank didn't mind at all, to be honest. Since his life was so flat and regular, hearing other's stories was pleasant, and having an entire Universe of information, there were _always_ new stories to discover. Frank wasn't very good at storytelling, but compensated with his love for listening, imagining, transforming the voice and the words of the people in pictures, stories, tales, so that he could make them his and remember them in the darkest moments, when he felt alone. The times when his father told him stories to make him fall asleep were over now, slid away in time, but Frank had never stopped to look for those moments, to long for new stories, myths and legends. It was almost an addiction.

"There's always weird ships docking, you know? And even then, a lot of inspections and mountains of paperwork. A lot of those ships don't even have permissions, and forcing certain individuals to leave is a challenge, _believe me_ "

"I believe you," Frank commented, who had met a lot of people who were used to travel and live in space during his life. Weird fellas really.

He added the last decoration (a slice of Lemonopter stuck on the glass, just like traditional Earthlings did - Frank had informed himself well) to his Galaxik Highway and gave it to Toddher. "Any weird landings in these days?" asked Frank, just to make small talk. He knew that Toddher loved to spread gossip when important government figures came in the city, and most of all he loved critiquing the disgusting clothing some aliens still wore - like, weird tunics or goofy suits.

Toddher grabbed his drink and downed a long sip, so long that Frank would have passed out drinking all that alcohol in one go. Hilarious, a barman that can't handle his alcohol, huh?

With a noise of appreciation, Toddher put down his big glass and scratched the greyish skin of his chin, looking thoughtful. "Actually yes. But as I told you, weirdos are always popping up. It takes all kinds to make the Universe, you'd tell me, but the fella who came up with such a phrase _surely_ didn't work at the harbour. Stupid pompous philosophers." muttered Toddher, downing the last drop of his drink and retrieving with is long blue tongue a Chiottyo leaf that was left on the bottom. "Anyway I was saying... This morning an admiral ship docked and there was this infinite series of soldiers of all shapes and dimensions that got the deck all dirty. Why should I clean something if other people get it dirty an hour later?"

Frank shrugged, leaning his hip on the counter. "Why should I wash the glasses if other customers are going to use them again an hour later?"

Toddher raised a thick, ungraceful finger, opening and then closing his mouth. "No. It's different. Don't get clever with me, Frank. Let me complain"

Frank chuckled and shook his head, raising his hands in surrender.

"Here. But that's not all, you know what came instead in the late afternoon? One of those old style war ships, you know, one of those with all the panels that reflect light on the sides. I didn't even think there were any around anymore, to be honest, but it was a nice surprise. Some dudes in capes came out, fought about I don't know what, I did my duty and left," finished Toddher, shrugging and waving the empty glass around without a reason. "Honestly I hope that it's already gone tomorrow: a bit because I might feel the temptation of stealing it again, and a bit because I know that those people bring trouble. Ah! I feel it in my gut, and my gut never lies. Trouble, my boy", and he remarked his words slamming the glass down on the counter. For some mystic reason, he also managed not to reduce it to shards.

Frank opened his mouth to retort, when a figure not far away waved his hand to grab his attention. "Would you make me a Zwighyo?" asked the guy, probably a new customer, because Frank didn't recognize the light bulb-shaped head and the beard around the eyes. He shot Toddher an apologetic look, who replied a distracted wave of the hand and dismissed him.

 

***

The evening went by in a calm fashion, even if filled with those moments where Frank could hear the clock tick too fast, alternated with moments in which the seconds dragged by in agony. He liked being a barman, but it could also be quite exhausting, and without the help of James and the rest of the staff, Frank knew that he would have gone crazy very easily. His parents had left as inheritance for him a nice bar, but the notoriety that the place benefitted from was doing of Frank, his patience and his good instinct in hiring excellent staff, and most of the complaints about his young age had died down quickly. Still, Frank was starting to feel that something was missing from his life, like a gap, a big tear that with time was only getting bigger - and this was a sensation that unconsciously he's started to feel a lot of time before he'd noticed that broken glass on the shelf.

Still absorbed in his running thoughts, at a quarter past ten in the evening, Frank's eyes laid first on a group of friends, sitting at one of his tables, laughing and toasting to who knows what, and then the subject of his intent observation became a close-knit couple making out against one of the walls of the bar. And there, for some reason, Frank felt a weird sensation in the pit of his stomach, like a stabbing pain, or maybe an alarm that his whimsical body had decided to throw at him to make him notice the absence of something that, in fact, was really missing.

Despite his 22 years, Frank had no parents anymore, no siblings, no relationships nor lovers nor pets. He only had himself... and the bar, his employees, some sporadic friends, a small apartment but nothing else. His life revolved strictly around this job, and it's not like Frank refused to meet new people and build real friendships or relationships, mostly it was that... he had no time. And maybe with time he'd forgotten how to build a relationship that had nothing to do with work.

And if you're asking yourselves, yes, Frank knew that he felt incredibly alone, still he struggled to solve that problem, because it wasn't that simple... and in regards to love life, he knew he was a mess. Thanks to the time spent in school, Frank sure wasn't a _virgin_ , but at 22 years of age he'd already stopped counting the months spent sleeping alone. It wasn't that bad, really, he could easily go on in company of himself, but that pressing absence of human contact, and that frustrating impossibility of loving and being loved, sometimes came back to knock on his door with a redundant, mocking ticking sound. Just like now.

"I don't understand," a voice said suddenly. "Are you making that face because you're scared that they'll ruin your wall, or because you'd like to join them?"

Frank jumped and whipped around, finding himself face to face (more like face to chin, in reality) with James, that had on his face that fake thoughtful expression, like he really was looking for an answer that made sense. And that's when Frank realized that he'd been staring at that couple making out against the wall of his bar like a stockfish for longer than he would have wanted. Blushing from the tip of his nose to his neck, Frank snorted in annoyance and crossed his arms. "The first one, of course. Actually, you should go tell them to get their asses out, I have no intention of cleaning anything."

"Why don't you go, instead? If you're lucky you might find out that they have no problems in doing a three-way thing"

" _James_ " Frank hissed, shoving at his friend's arm, but he didn't move an inch - instead, he snickered smugly at Frank's embarrassed reaction and his redness. Despite how much he cared for him, nothing was as satisfying as teasing him on certain subjects.

"What? It would be an experience".

"I'll do experience when and if I feel like it" Frank muttered, turning and starting to tidy up the liquors, turning them to the right side so that the label was visible. The point was... Frank knew he looked _acceptable_ , and there would've been nothing bad in 'having fun' with a random someone, but he couldn't accept the idea of going with someone without a real reason, one that wasn't frivolous pleasure, without feelings. The idea, simply, made him uncomfortable... there was that fragile and romantic side of him that wanted to be satisfied in the soul too, not just in the flesh. So, he'd had his fair share of opportunities in those years, but he'd never been attracted a great deal - in part because just the idea in general bothered him a bit, and in part because taking to bed one of his _customers_ bothered him _a lot_ , instead.

"You know I don't like these kinds of things, James" he whispered in the end, hoping that the other barman would let the matter drop. If he didn't speak about it, he didn't feel as much of that empty feeling, and even if on one side it was acting like he couldn't see reality, Frank preferred not to hurt himself without reason. A lesser evil for a greater good, someone would have said.

James sighed, rolling his eyes. Maybe he was the one with a way too open mind, but he couldn't understand his friend's fixation, that stubbornness in denying himself something so natural, spontaneous. He couldn't see the reason, and surely Frank wouldn't have confessed his. "What's the problem? Two shots and you'd start to like those kinds of things _a lot_. And look at the bright side: you gays are so lucky that you can take the first passing alien without having to worry about the horrible kid that could come out of it"

"JAMES!", Frank whipped around and shoved his friend away again, scrunching his face up in a disgusted expression. That was really _the last_ thing he wanted to think about.

"What?" answered James faking innocence, shrugging. "Am I wrong? Or are there some things you haven't told me...?"

Deciding to give up and leave it alone, Frank shook his head and rubbed his hand on his face, starting then to massage his temples. "Go back to work, that's better" he grumbled, deciding to take back the authority of owner of the bar to get out of that horrible conversation.

Finally grasping the boy's discomfort, James let out a long sigh and abandoned the sarcasm. He laid a hand on Frank's shoulder and convinced him to turn.

Frank, freeing his eyes from the torture he was submitting them to by rubbing his fingers against his eyelids, let down his arms and threw James an annoyed look, hopeless and, in part, hurt. The man took off the wool beanie that he always wore on his head, and Frank licked his lips, even more uncomfortable: a beanie-less James was a serious James - rare event, in fact.

"Buddy... you know what I'm trying to say in my own way. I don't want you to isolate yourself forever just like you're doing lately... you need to go out a little more, meet someone who could be with you even when you're not at work"

"And why? I'm perfectly fine this way, Jam-"

"No, Frank," James shook his head. "You're not. I keep seeing that vacant, far-away stare more and more, and I know that loneliness is an evil beast. You have to distract yourself from this place and take back your youth... And come on, you live a staircase away above your bar, Frank. There's a whole Universe and you want to see always and only this gross building?"

"It's not - "

" _Yes_ , instead. I'm not asking you to take a holiday who knows where, I know you'd only end up getting lost, but start from the little things, at least. Go meet someone, even if for one night only, who knows what could happen after. And if you don't feel ready for that step yet, at least get a dog!"

Frank, that in the meantime had hidden his face in his hands again, let out a long lament of agony. "You know I'd end up making it die of hunger, James... a dog just like I'd let a relationship die. It already went bad the other times"

"The _other times_ aren't the next times. Simply _try_ , Frank. And I didn't speak about relationships, I only said _one night_..."

"B-but -", Frank started, before the words died in his throat. A part of him didn't want to tell James that he didn't like taking to bed strangers just for the pleasure of doing it, even if, in reality, he felt that his friend would have understood. Still he didn't want to seem somehow _weak_ , or way too shy.

"Or, anyway, you could try to simply make some friends, nothing more. I don't know, maybe try with a woman, so you don't risk anything".

Frank forced himself to give up and chuckled a bit, trying in the meantime to melt the tension. That subject shouldn't have bothered him that much, right? "You're like my mum," he commented after a while. "My mum and my dad together. And maybe my grandma too."

"Why, did your mum, your dad and your grandma ever try to convince you to have sex with a stranger?"

Without moving his eyes from the crowd that still filled the bar, Frank felt his cheeks redden and a high-pitched giggle leave his lips. "Luckily no, never".

"Very good then," James made his lips smack and clapped his hands together, put his hat back on and looked around, looking for something to do.

Frank, in the meantime - knowing that he ruffled up his hair a lot because of his sad, silent desperation - tried to tame and put back in place his black locks, in a way that part of them stayed in the front to frame his face and part behind the dog ears. Turning around to check himself better in the reflection of the glass and the little mirror hidden between the liquors, Frank observed for a few seconds his own image and sighed when he noticed the deepening line of dark circles under his eyes.

"Frank," said James suddenly, making the younger man jump, since he heard the weak note of alarm in his colleague's voice. Turning around again, he saw him busy making a drink for a customer that Frank hadn't seen getting closer, but his eyes weren't staring at the liquor, instead a point further away inside the big room, and following his line of sight, Frank caught sight of a dark figure crossing the bar's door and looking around quickly, before the gaze of the newcomer fell right on the bar. "I'd keep an eye on that one. I'll go on the back a second, the spirits are over," James whispered; before retiring and going somewhere in the back, but Frank didn't see where, because he didn't dare losing sight of the stranger, who, draped in a dark cape, was getting closer to the bar with firm, graceful steps. And when he found the stranger in front of himself, Frank swallowed thickly.

The man had a big hood that hid him almost completely, and since he was looking down, at first Frank couldn't even see his eyes or his features. With almost completely silent movements, the stranger sat down on a stool, right in front of Frank, and crossed both arms on the counter, showing the palest skin and muscles that weren't exaggerated but not even non-existent. As if he'd just got caught looking at something private (but it was just his _arms_ ), Frank immediately darted his wide eyes up, just in time to see the _customer_ raise his chin and give him a crooked half smile.

"Hey," he said, with the slightly raspy voice of someone who either hasn't spoken in hours, or has already screamed too much. Either way, Frank felt a shiver run down his spine.

What hit the young barman, though, were his light eyes, half-hidden by the shadow of the hood and the long locks of unusually _red_ hair, because Frank couldn't understand if they were green, light brown, blue or grey. Frank swallowed again.

After a moment of silence – in which Frank's mind kept repeating itself that he should have _done something_ , like greeting, giving his availability, like he did for all the other customers – the stranger opened his mouth and quickly glanced around, as if checking that no one else was too close, before looking back at Frank.

"Would you give me a Deathly Smackdown, uhm...", his eyes darted to the left side of Frank's chest, where his tag was pinned. "...Frank Iero?"

In the span of five minutes, Frank swallowed for the third time.


	2. Nothing Wrong

 

 

**2\. Nothing Wrong**

  
       

Gerard "Nox" Way had met a lot of people in the course of his life, so many that sometimes Mikey had suggested he keep a notebook for posterity. Even if he'd always been good with words, he'd decided to avoid the idea: some things were best kept hidden, while others were simply too absurd to be described. Only after a long time he understood that his brother had meant it as a joke; maybe spending all that time in the same room with Tyler was making him become too serious, or at least, Gerard told himself that as an excuse, because Tyler claimed the same thing to Gerard. It was like a vicious circle.

Anyway, the young barman in front of him didn't look too well. With a grayish complexion, tending towards green, the boy had been standing stiffly for more than two minutes already. Uncomfortable, Gerard darted his eyes to one side and then the other, before going back to staring at the barman, who apparently was named Frank, or at least that was what the tag on his button up shirt said.

For a second Gerard was scared that the guy had recognized him, but it seemed highly improbable: he hadn't ventured often on this part of the galaxy, and not a lot of people had ever seen his face, or knew his name - his real name, other than Nox. After all, if he stood up now and announced that simple word, probably a lot of those not so honest gentlemen would have run off - or they would have taken a weapon out to shoot him in the back. He could never know, but Gerard loved that side of his life as well.

It was a constant race against time, surrounded by space, chased by the world. He and the other Strays knew that well.

To tear him from his train of thought was a sharp pain on his side, but Gerard grinded his teeth and didn't make a sound. He only had to drink something, and he would have taken care of all his other problems later.

***

"Uhm - yes, c-coming right up," answered Frank, stumbling on his own tongue but finally managing to unblock himself from the instant of stillness he'd got himself caught up in – an unpleasant sensation that had almost reminded him of his old panic attacks, dating back to his school days.

Deathly Smackdown, his brain reminded him quickly, and Frank turned around to shoot an anxious look to the door James had disappeared behind, but it didn't seem to be about to move again. Sighing, the young man grabbed the alcoholics (some of the strongest in his stock, this was one of those drinks with which people had all the intention to get drunk) and he ignored the awkwardness of having the stranger's eyes on his back, because he knew that his light gaze was observing each of his movements.

Moving automatically, Frank grabbed a glass without even looking and started pouring the ingredients, stirring with a long spoon and nibbling on the silver ring on his lip -  a habit of when he felt stressed and under pressure, and then Frank started really asking himself why the arrival of this dude was working him up so much... was it because the conversation with James had upset him more than he thought? Or because he'd retired to the back to suddenly, leaving Frank with a vague signal of alarm? Frank swallowed and shot a short look behind him: the stranger was still there, wrapped in his dark cape, arms crossed on the counter, fingers interlaced and thumbs touching. He'd lowered his head again, so that the hood and the hair left his face shadowed. He looked lost in who knows what kind of thoughts.

Frank darted his eyes back to his work, jumping when he realized just in time that he almost made the alcohol spill out from the border of the glass. Feeling betrayed by his own mind, he gritted his teeth and shook his head, trying to wake himself up.

Taking a big breath, Frank turned around and handed the drink to the man. "Here you go, uhm - mister"

The strange customer raised his head and straightened his back, clearly relieved that his order was ready, and when his light eyes met Frank's ones, his lips curled on one side, in a somewhat polite, but at the same time forced, smile. "Thank you," he answered. "And there's no need to calm me 'mister', I don't consider myself that old".

Frank felt himself blush, inevitably. "No - I mean, yes... I didn't mean that you seem ol-"

The stranger snickered, amused, in the same tone he'd used to say "hey" when he came in. "I know, I was kidding" he clarified in fact, rolling his eyes and extending a hand to grab the glass. He had long, slender fingers, Frank noticed, and some metal rings around his index and thumb.

And at that point another reason came to Frank's mind to explain his awkwardness, as improbable as it might have been: this man was attractive, very much so, and he wouldn't have been able to deny that. Sure he'd only seen his face in fleeing lights and shadows, and who knew what was really hidden under that hood and the rest of the cape - but despite that, Frank felt attracted to this man, maybe for his spontaneous aura of charisma, or because of that cunning smile that seemed to hide many things and demand just as many.

In reality, half of it was attraction, half was inexplicable fear, if not even suspect.

It had never happened to him before, to think like that of a customer - or at least, not so much, and not so soon. Frank furrowed his brows, as if to scold himself.

He shot another glance to the door behind him: nothing. Frank huffed; some nights he hated staying behind the bar alone, and he needed James to be able to relax.

Feeling uneasy, Frank kept nibbling on his lip piercing and uselessly straightening glasses and tools littered around the shelf under the counter, only giving the stranger brief looks, maybe not even doing so on purpose. He didn't notice anyway: in fact, thinking that he wasn't being watched, the man slid a hand inside his cape, and with swift, almost unseen movements, he took a minuscule silver vial, pouring a drop of its content inside the drink that Frank had made. The red colour of the cocktail hid immediately the added ingredient, and those elegant fingers made the vial disappear as quickly as they took it out.

Without even knowing why, Frank startled. And immediately, the almost feline eyes of the man flew on him, neutral but at the same time threatening, and Frank faked a cough, looking purposely away.

But the intense gaze of the man didn't leave him. Shit.

After a moment of silence, in which Frank acted like he was intent in staring with great attention at the details of the wall at the other end of the room, the customer with the cape made a short noise of approval. "Interesting," he commented, and Frank couldn't resist the impulse of moving his eyes on him.

The man licked his lips and closed his fingers around the cup. Frank tilted his head and lowered one of his ears, looking at the new customer with a questioning expression. "Excuse me?".

The man didn't raise his gaze immediately, but shook his head and sketched another unsure smile, running a fingertip on the border of the glass. "No, it's nothing..." he muttered, finally raising his eyes, and a ray of light illuminated his face with more attention: Frank noticed eyes with an elegant cut, thick, but perfectly arched eyebrows, thin lips and a slightly pointy nose. The stranger had pale skin framed by rebellious red locks, and had a drop shaped tattoo that started from his eye to his cheek. "This is an Earth-style bar, am I right?".

Frank looked around his bar, as if he had to check before answering. "Exactly," he then replied, puffing his chest slightly, more out of habit than anything else.

The man moved his head in a gesture of approval. "Not bad, I have to say. Even if I don't see a lot of Earthlings," he commented, and Frank saw him shoot a look first behind himself, where aliens of every shape and form were chatting, and then one to his ears, that Frank immediately pulled back defensively.

"Uhm - thanks? And... no, not lots of Earthlings come all the way out here. But I like the idea of bringing these traditions around in space," he shot back, shrugging. Then he realized something, and widened his eyes, feeling his heartbeat go faster. "W-Wait, are you? An Earthling, I mean?"

The stranger, who in the meantime had lowered his eyes and had taken another sip of his drink, lifted his eyes and raised his eyebrows, as if taken aback by that question. "What? Ah - oh, no. Or at least, not anymore. But my ancestors were," he answered, shooting Frank another smile, this time warmer and less tense. Frank felt something move in his stomach. "To make up for it I've been there, a few times".

At that news, Frank raised his ears and parted his lips with growing interest. "Really? I've been dreaming of going there for - forever, I think, but you know... those kinds of journeys cost quite a lot. Too much for someone like me".

The man downed another sip of alcohol and nodded. "That's what's awesome about having your own ship, in fact".

This time Frank was really surprised. Not only was this man attractive or fascinating, he was also the owner of a spaceship capable of making it to the Milky Way, and consequently to the Earth. Not any ship could travel that distance. He must have been quite rich too, Frank thought, and full of knowledge, stories, mysteries.

Frank swallowed the spit that had pooled in his mouth.

"Iero," said again the stranger, pointing his finger towards the tag on Frank's chest. "Is a name from the Earth, for example. Italian, I'd dare say"

When the man came in the bar, Frank would have sworn he was some kind of thief or criminal who came there to get drunk,  stay in his silence and then disappear, so he felt quite surprised in realizing that the strange customer  was trying to make normal, polite talk, just like his more regular customers. That absolutely didn't take away from the fact that Frank felt much more relieved, now - instead, this turn of events was giving him hopes and ideas that he shouldn't have had.

While that hidden part of him almost completely forgot about the alarm felt towards this man in the beginning, Frank realized that he would have really liked to know more about the stranger. In every sense, he surprised himself thinking, and he bit his lip.

"Italian?" echoed Frank, tilting his head again, partly because it underlined his questioning behavior, and partly because once someone told him that he looked prettier when he did that. Frank pretended that he wasn't giving weight to this detail, but in reality he was definitely doing so. "What does that mean?"

"It means that it's from Italy," the other answered readily, raising his eyes to Frank, and he noticed his gaze falling from his eyes to his lips. "Italy was a region of the Earth, one of the most beautiful places on that planet. And also one of the places I've been to, thanks to... some people I know". He paused, taking another sip from his drink. "Do your glasses come from Earth too? It seems so from the handiwork," he commented, looking first at his glass, then all the other ones resting neatly on the shelves next to the liquors.

Frank turned to admire his collection, feeling a proud smile make way on his face. His passion was the history and the culture of Earth, and his pride were his bar and all his original sets: he had every reason to feel happy to answer that question. "Oh, only some of them, but I don't use them often because they are rare and I'm particularly attached to them, even if they always make me look good in front of ambassadors" he answered in the end, briefly laughing.

"I understand... shame for the crack, then".

Surprised, Frank's eyes darted to the stranger, and he ended up open mouthed when recognizing, between his hands, the glass that in the last days he'd found himself staring at quite often. Alarmed, he threw a look to the spot on the shelf where it had been, unmoved and unused, for the last two months, but obviously, he found that spot empty. His attention moved back to the man, who, noticing the shocked expression on the young barman's face, raised his eyebrows and shrugged a shoulder. "Oh, but it's not a problem," he rushed to say, laying his eyes again on the almost empty glass that he held between his fingers. "Actually, it's quite beautiful like this too".

Frank knew that it was beautiful like that too, but he didn't say anything. His mind, for some reason, had short-circuited. In conclusion, he'd never used that glass with anyone, but now there it was, and he hadn't even noticed that he'd taken and used it. This guy must have really distracted him a lot.

The man finished his cocktail and licked his lips to clean up the last drops, unaware of Frank's gaze, that followed the quick movement of his tongue as if bewitched.

Weird.

When the stranger brought his gaze back to Frank, and found him with the same exact expression as before, he frowned a bit and blinked. "Is something wrong...?" he went, spelling slowly, and then Frank saw him twitch almost imperceptibly while his face contracted, as if prey of an unexpected sting of pain, and Frank asked himself is he shouldn't be the one asking if something was wrong, now, instead of the opposite. So, he did.

"Hey, are - are you okay?"

The other squeezed his eyes and brought a hand under his cape, probably touching a spot on his side, but then looked at his fingers under the counter, without letting Frank see anything. Right after, anyway, his expression seemed to go back to normal, and he smiled at Frank in a reassuring way. "Yes, of course. It's nothing, it's just... a cramp" he muttered, and then Frank felt his intense gaze straight in his eyes, and he almost completely forgot where they were, who they were, what they were doing. He forgot his own question and his reason, because now the only thing that counted were the butterflies in his stomach.

The stranger's eyes were of a very light green, almost tending towards ice grey. Frank would have liked to swallow, but he found that his throat was completely dry, so he didn't do anything but hold that gaze - the same gaze that, instead, interrupted eye contact to lay on Frank's parted lips, who felt a shiver run down his spine, ice-cold and at the same time scorching hot.

"My name is Nox," the stranger whispered, and his voice was like honey, and warm. Frank stared at his moving lips, knowing well that the other's gaze was on his own lips. The situation was taking a turn that Frank, up until ten minutes before, would have never expected.

What Frank didn't know, was that the man - Nox - had just tested him, studying every single change of expression on his face at the word, so short but full of a meaning that Frank didn't know - or didn't remember, because his mind was definitely somewhere else, in that moment.

"Would - would you like to order something else?" Frank muttered, barely master of his own lips, and he resisted with struggle to the impulse of leaping forward to pull that damn hood down and get a better look at the young man in front of him.

"Actually... yes. Even if this request could seem, well... a bit unusual, Frank". Nox narrowed his eyes and licked his lips. His eyes, in the meantime, hadn't moved from Frank's lips yet: instead, his gaze seemed almost hungry now, ravenous like a predator's.

And Frank knew perfectly well what all this meant - or at least, he was convincing himself of this more and more. That gaze would have seemed obvious to anyone, after all.

In the mess currently inside Frank's head, the young man remembered the conversation with James not long before. He thought about his words and his own. He remembered the sensation of melancholy and loneliness that had been following him for months now. And then he thought again about how he was wasting his own youth, about all the opportunities he would have had, about the need to meet someone, in a way or another. And Frank surprised himself noticing that he wasn't so adverse to the idea or everything James had said anymore, because suddenly it seemed that his friend was right.

There was nothing wrong with it.

And that's not the only thing Frank surprised himself thinking: if right now, that man straight up asked him to go to bed with him and let himself be fucked through the night, he doubted the answer would have been no.

And if the glass had been a sign? Frank hadn't used that glass for months, if not once for himself. He'd had just enough time to think that his life needed a crack, a change of route, a tear in the routine, just like the glass, and then the glass ended up in the hands of the only man Frank had felt attracted to after all that time. Frank didn't believe in fate or all those strange things, but he was convinced that, every now and then, positive coincidences could happen.

There's nothing wrong with it.

And who cares if Nox was going to disappear the day after, who cares about the feelings, Frank was young and free, he could do all he wanted without giving himself a reason or a why. Thinking that, Frank felt a shiver, joy and excitement swelling up inside him, like he'd finally freed himself from constraints and chains.

For this reason and others, the young barman found himself hoping to hear those words leaving Nox's mouth. And he didn't even feel guilty, for once in his life.

Free, he repeated to himself.

Nox parted his lips, and Frank held his breath.

"Do you, by any chance, have some silver, here in the bar?"

Frank opened and closed his mouth, taken aback. That wasn't the sentence that he was expecting - that he was hoping - to hear. Far from it.

"W-what...?" he stuttered in fact, blinking and straightening his back, that he hadn't noticed he'd bent. The space he put again between himself and the stranger seemed suddenly cold, empty, infinite.

Nox cleared his throat: "Silver. Do you have any silver? Like I don't know, a teaspoon? A lost ring? It's... quite important".

Frank kept blinking, his head still spinning, trying to catch up to the situation again and get out of his stupor. As soon as he did, a wave of disappointment of great proportions hit him fully. "Uhm -" Frank said, not very smartly. "Silver? I- I don't know actually. Maybe in... in the back, I should che-"

"Frank," someone said in a rigid tone, and Frank startled, moving his eyes to the spot where the voice had come from: James. The man had miraculously reappeared from the door on the right behind Frank; his eyes, though, kept moving between Frank and the cloaked customer. "Come here a second, please" James went on stiffly.

Confused by the situation, Frank threw a glance at Nox, whose face had become expressionless, of stone, but the alarm he was hiding just under the surface was evident. Without adding anything else, Frank reached James, who grabbed his arm and dragged him on the other side of the door, before closing it quickly.

Frank felt his friend grab him by the shoulders, and his heartbeat went at a thousand miles. Something was really wrong. "J-James?" he stammered.

James shook him with urgency, tightening his fingers on his colleague's shirt. "Frank, what did that man say to you?"

Frowning, Frank tried to free himself from James' grip, failing. "Nothing!" he hissed between his teeth. "We just talked. And then he asked for... some silver, but I don't know why" he answered, almost with annoyance, while a part of him felt offended by the worried and accusing tone James used to refer to the red haired man. In other words, he had done nothing wrong, and Frank had just put up some kind of erotic fantasy about him - even if it went shattered. James, on the other hand, had looked at him like you'd look at a stray dog or a criminal.

James put his arms back and rubbed his hands on his face. "This is not good," he grunted. "But the Vigilantes should be here in seconds".

Frank frowned harder, but a bit of fear started spreading inside him. "What is no good? The Vigilantes?! Are you kidding?"

"I'd like to be kidding, believe me". James sighed and threw a look at the door, bent down and peeped through the keyhole: the man was still there, and he seemed busy staring at a glass, a glass with a crack on the side. James straightened his back and went back to staring at Frank with wide eyes: Frank had never seen him so scared. He'd never seen him scared, period.

"Frank, remember my friend? The one with feathers on his neck? Evan. His house was littered with random things he gathered around the Universe when he travelled, remember?"

Frank felt even more confused at the change of subject, but he nodded. He'd been a bit drunk, but he remembered.

"We mocked him for his stupid collections, because Evan collected mugshots and bounty announcements and death sentences, every single one he found in the galaxy. It was a stupid fixation," James went on, before raising a finger and pointing it with rage and fear towards the door. "But I remember, I remember it very well: I saw that man between the pictures, that cloak and that red hair. And there was a huge reward on him..."

And then it was clear. Frank remembered everything. That's why he had that feeling of mixed terror and fear when the man had come in the bar. His memories, blurred by alcohol, had tried to warn him, but uselessly. Nox was a criminal, probably a murderer, who came from a place very far away. Evan had said that he'd found that mugshot in an almost unknown galaxy, very far, and he was proud of it, like what was in his possession was a rare find.

Nox had his own ship, he'd said so.

Frank felt his heartbeat go faster, and he put a hand on his chest to try keeping down the risk of a panic attack, because this really wasn't the time. He opened his mouth to answer to James, to say something, but every word died in his throat when from the other side of the door came sudden noises.

Noises of screams and shots.

 

 

 

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**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here it is the second chapter! I'm still working on the third one, I had a lot of things to do and inspiration, you know, betrays me everytime I need it. 
> 
>  
> 
> However, I was a little insicure about this chapter whe I first wrote it (in Italian), but reading it now, I think it's strange but okay nonetheless. 
> 
>  
> 
> As always, the English transltation is by poisonmilkshake !
> 
> Leave a comment...?
> 
> _Ashe_

**Author's Note:**

> Aaand here we are with a new project, even tho I shouldn't and I know, I already have too many stories started and never finished, I don't have enough time for all my hobbies... 
> 
> This should be a story with the plot a little simpler, faster (but I never trust myself, duh) so I hope to succeed in completing this in a fairly limited time. 
> 
> I've started various drawing for this fic but I haven't finished 'em yet - but if you're curious, on my instagram account (stray_ashes) there's a work in progress with Gerard with fox ears (... yeah, exactly).
> 
> Edit: SO THE DRAWING of the cover is MINE, and please don't steal c: 
> 
> However, I hope that this awkward first chapter had at least teased a bit your curiosity, so I hope to see you next chapter!
> 
> PS: And there is a sweet person who has offered me to translate into English (I always write in Italian first, I would do the translating myself but I hardly have time to write in Italian, so you can imagine) and so nothing, I'm really happy 'bout it. 
> 
> See ya 'round,
> 
> Stray_Ashes


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